streetwalkers | (no subject)

(no subject)

It'd been over a decade since the epidemic that wiped out a third of the earth's population, and the wars and political struggles that had risen in the following, chaotic years had down in for another half of what remained, if not more if one counted the death toll to disease and crime, the lack of modern medicine, the tainted environment and water in most urban areas and the general set back in civilization.

Mikado had been fifteen when it started. He was twenty-seven now. And like any of the survivors of the years between the end of the world and now... He was changed. One of the lucky ones to survive disease and war, right? Lucky... Survival came at a cost, and when the streets of Ikebukuro, once bustling with commerce and tourists, became a dead zone of gang warfare and violence, Mikado had been right in the middle of it. And powerless.

He'd learned just how powerless, painfully, and often. Until his hatred and anger had warped and tempered him into something cold and precise as a scalpel. He wasn't strong in the way the thugs and the fighters were, but amateurish inexperience could only last so long and Mikado was a fast learner. He rose to power on three things; his wits, his force of personality, and ruthlessness. Ambushing his enemies and using clever traps and guises to get him where brute strength couldn't, and using those connections that were drawn to his innate charisma to get him where only brute strength could. Even after disaster and damage, he had a certain ability to charm people with his personality, and those that followed him now were, by and large, either incredibly loyal or too useful to be rid of. In turn his mind and vision was too useful for even the less loyal followers to risk trying to be rid of, and so a balance was struck somewhere along the line. He'd lost the charming uncertainty and idealism but he'd gained a quiet, iron confidence that others were drawn to.

He had a game, a way to control the territory he'd wrested from lawlessness. Preventing fighting on the streets of the ruined city was impossible, but he could enforce it. Give it incentive. Only registered combatants would be suffered to be found fighting, and they could tear at each other as they wished, when they wished, wherever they wished. The incentive; tags given to everyone who registered, that could be ripped from a defeated opponent. They could be traded in for anything based on their number value. Better accommodations, whores, drugs, weapons, though guns were banned from the fights. The most skilled could, in theory, attempt for the specific poker hand of tags that would allow them to challenge the organization's mysterious and shadow'd leader, though none had ever reached that goal. In turn, anyone unregistered caught fighting would be summarily executed by the enforcers--unless the enforcers decided they were good looking enough to serve another purpose.

In that way, Ikebukuro stabilized a little. Non-combatants still feared the streets at night but thugs feared the enforcers more, and some semblance of life continuing grew a little, under the watchful laws of the lawless Dollars.

For Mikado this wasn't his end ambition but it was a start. But he hadn't expected, months ago, that one of the new combatants to register would have been Kida himself. The registration took place in the mansion the main members of Dollars called home, and with all registrations Mikado had been watching the newcomers put on their masks, his own in place before he revealed himself to meet them, explain the rules, and ask if they wanted to participate.

His heart had near stopped when he'd seen Kida. He almost hadn't recognized him, both their faces and voices had changed with age and trauma, and Mikado was sure Kida hadn't even had a remote moment of recognition when Mikado explained the purpose and perks of fighters. Mikado's own role in the world he'd created was the secretary to the shadowy and terrifying Dollar's boss, with none but the highest ranking aware that the quiet and no-nonsense, rather popular secretary-san was the shadowy Boss himself. That he dealt in everything from drugs to slavery and black market items, well, that was just a means of further acquiring power. Distasteful as it was, it was effective, and he left the more sadistic parts to those that most enjoyed it, usually.

But seeing Kida had shaken him, worried him in a way he wasn't aware he could still worry. Fighters died daily, defeat could mean anything from humiliation and rape to outright murder, anything was allowed in the laws of the game, but only within the game. A victor had complete freedom to deal with a loser as they saw fit, and after seeing Kida's face for the first time in years, Mikado had had his first nightmare in years; that same face dead and staring, lifeless and accusatory. For days afterwards he'd been grumpy and out of sorts, a state he couldn't afford to maintain.

Try as he might to put it from mind, he couldn't help but be drawn to Kida's progress in the fights. And Kida's presence brought with it other trouble. Members of a gang from a territory Mikado didn't control (not yet, but that was an eventual goal, they were strong enough to pose a problem for now though) had started showing up in Dollar's territory. They weren't registered fighters and they mostly respected the game's laws (those who didn't met bad ends, even rival gangs feared the consequences of violating Dollar's law) but they were still a concerning presence, trouble tracking Kida.

And Mikado was tracking them. He knew, after a few weeks of his underlings keeping tabs, that the gang was after Kida, and so he kept watch himself or through an underling.

So when Kida found himself being backed into a corner by the thugs of that group Mikado had been watching, Mikado happened to be there. If Mikado were an enforcer he'd have dealt with them ruthlessly, but he was only the Dollar's "secretary" and so he made a note of each face before he darted out of the shadow of one doorway, grabbed Kida's arm with a shouted "This way!" and ran.

No one knew the streets and back alleys like Mikado did, like he'd made a point to, and but still he kept them navigating the maze of abandoned and derelict buildings for twenty minutes to be safe, before coming to a stop in one mostly intact old apartment building, a little winded, letting go of Kida to glance cautiously out a broken window. The streets were empty, there wasn't a sound or feeling of anyone but the two of them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The luxury reminds him of home. "Home" as far as his base in Shibuya, anyway. It reminds him how shoddy his living conditions are now in comparison, and how far he's fallen in a year. He follows Mikado closely, taking in as much detail as he can in case of trouble.

There's something weird about this. Something about the way this guy says his name... But he can't place it. He must just be on edge.]

Sure. Thank you...

[Mikado nods, amiably, and pours two mugs, bringing them over and setting one down in front of Kida, a polite host, before sitting down across from him on a comfortable sofa. To be honest he doesn't present the picture of someone involved in a gang like Dollars at all. He insists on wearing a suit, his hair is neat, there aren't any visible tattoos or piercings on him at all. He is known as the secretary, not a fighter, but he just doesn't give off any kind of hooligan or tough guy vibe at all.]

[To most normal people his aura is quietly reassuring, to someone as aware as Kida, that kind of lack of intimidation factor in someone as highly placed as Mikado is in Dollars might seem strange or even suspicious.]

[Mikado blows on his coffee and sips it, watching Kida across the table.]

It should be a little while before we're interrupted. Do you mind if I ask you something a little unrelated? I'm sorry if it's somewhat personal.

[It's definitely strange. This guy is strange. He's too calm, too unassuming, too ordinary for where he is. Something about it puts Kida on edge, sends a chill down his spine that settles in his gut and keeps him tense. He forces himself to sit back in the chair he's chosen, getting comfy like a poor guy unused to decent furniture or warmth should. Like someone with the criminal stupidity of the mostly un-initiated. He's trying his hardest to project the image of a local boy who got in over his head just recently and hasn't yet learned the ropes of the underworld.

The only thing that betrays his experience is the way he holds that cup of coffee carefully, firmly enough to throw it if he needs to, but doesn't drink.]

I guess it's fine. I can't promise an answer though. A guy's gotta be careful, right?

[Mikado just kind of watches this and wonders. Wonders what's happened to Kida for the last twelve years. Where he's been. He assumed his friend was dead so long ago...]

[Well, that's what he wants to ask about anyway.]

Ah, I'm sorry if it's forward since it's been such a long time, but what happened to you all those years ago? Sonohara-san and I thought you'd been killed a long time ago.

[He asks it so calmly, taking a drink of his coffee. It's said in such a natural, conversational tone.]

[That question makes it all click into place. Why it felt so strange hearing his name, what kept itching at the back of his brain the whole time he was watching the secretary move.

Ryuugamine Mikado is someone he thought he'd never see again. When he left, he hadn't meant to be gone forever, but one thing led to another and with the eventual collapse of mobile service he hadn't been able to check and see if there was anything to return to in the first place. So he'd left his memories and assumed his friends were dead along with his own former self -- Izaya had never told him he'd heard otherwise.

But he must have. There's no way he wouldn't know about something like this. Suddenly Kida remembers the razor-sharp smile on his old contact's face when he'd suggested Dollars and Ikebukuro as an escape idea, and it makes perfect sense.

So after the initial look of wide-eyed shock passes, Kida's expression changes to a deeply burning resentment.]

I'm gonna kill that bastard. [He mutters under his breath, fingers tightening on his coffee cup before he remembers to respond to Mikado and not his own thoughts.]

...Uhm. Sorry, Mikado, I-- It really has been a long time, hasn't it?

[Mikado sips his coffee while Kida processes. He doesn't know what the look of resentment is for but he's fairly sure it's not directed at him. Eventually, when Kida seems to snap back to the present, he sets his mug down on the table with a little click.]

Mm. Don't worry about it. Do you mind if I drop the -san? It's a little presumptuous but it'd be nice to be informal a bit.

[He doesn't wait for an affirmative before he leans back to look at Kida again.]

I wish I could say you look well, Masaomi. What happened?

[Though he drops the formal tone and speaks to Kida like an old friend, there's no actual warmth. He's not cold either. The atmosphere about him is simply distant and closed off, faintly friendly but no hint of vulnerability or enthusiasm, a kind of calm demeanor that seems unshakable. It appeals to a lot of people, in a way, but it's nothing like the Mikado of years ago.]

It's fine...

[There's a distance in Kida's posture, too. He can't get too friendly just because this is someone he used to know. It doesn't change who they are now. Mikado is an important parts of Dollars, and Kida is the runaway ex-boss of one of the largest gangs in Tokyo. He can't just loosen up and risk his life or his goals in the name of friendliness.

Still, he's just naturally more emotive than Mikado, and can't entirely mask his relief at seeing him.]

I just... got busy. I was trying to help out where I was, and then a long time had gone by and I didn't know if there was a point in coming back.

[It is hard not to lapse into more natural expressions with Kida. Mikado finds himself more at ease than he's been with anyone for years, and the realization shocks him a bit, though his composure doesn't slip enough to show his unease.]

[It feels like it would be very easy to act like someone he hasn't been in a long time, with Kida here.]

Ah... Things haven't really stopped being chaotic even after all this time, huh?

[He even smiles a little, and it's not a distant calm smile but a sad, bitter one. Too real.]

Nothing's really the same as you left it, but you don't look like you're the same either. I'm glad you're alive, though.

[Too genuine. It's disturbing to know he himself is being honest without ulterior motive.]

Edited 2013-11-22 08:18 (UTC)

Mm, for now... But you can't take it for granted!

[He laughs a little, more natural than it really should be, and finally takes a cautious sip of coffee.]

Looks like you've set yourself up pretty well. What about her, though? Still around?

I see your jokes haven't really gotten better.

[The coffee is warm and good and not, in fact, drugged or poisoned. Mikado relaxes a bit more, rests his palm in his hand and looks Kida over.]

She disappears sometimes. I haven't heard from her in a while, but she ended up having some ties to the Awakusu Group... They usually know where she is, and she sends messages through them, so I think if she were in trouble I'd have heard about it.

I plan to tell her to visit you when she shows up again.

[It's such a different world than years ago, when openly discussing an old friend's ties to the Yakuza seems so much more normal than smiling for real.]

That's probably not the best idea.

[His smile fades at the thought, and he stares down into his coffee with a guarded quietness. It would be lovely to see her. It would be nice if this meant they'd all be in contact. But "nice" doesn't mean "practical". He needs to keep his distance, no matter what. They can't find out who he really is.]

I don't want to make a mess with the people tailing me, y'know.

Ah...I wouldn't really worry about Sonohara-san.

[He picks up his own coffee and changes the subject from that mysterious declaration.]

That does bring us back to the topic at hand though--why are they following you? It's enough to invade Ikebukuro and break our rules here, so I can't really take it lightly. Even though you're not really part of Dollars, you are participating under our rules. Usually that would be enough for people to give up on a grudge.

Even if you say it's not really my business, I'm afraid that's wrong. At this point it is my business--if it gets to the point where other gangs are cocky enough to do this in Dollars territory, it makes us look weak if we don't act immediately. It becomes a big problem.

Then take them out and send a message. They're the ones stupid enough to send goons this far on debt collection. Even if it's a lot of money, it's not worth it just to kill me out of spite.

[He sighs, setting his cup down and crossing his legs. His "nobody" image is still mostly there, but there's a confidence in the way he's sitting now that can't be hidden. His posture is slipping, back towards that of someone used to sitting in a big fancy chair like this, maybe in a room like this, and giving his opinion with the expectation that it'll be listened to.

He hasn't had to lie in a long time. He's lived his life being someone who was loudly, blatantly, aggressively himself. It's not doing him favors here. He's just fortunate his physical disguise is holding up, so none of the things that'd identify him are showing just yet.]

[Mikado watches that little slip, the way he just slides into a more confident lounge like it's entirely natural and this seems... Much more the "real" Kida, whoever that is these days, than the person who was hesitating and nervous from a bit ago. He chooses not to point out Kida's slip up, more interested in it, intrigued actually, and debating how to respond.]

[He wasn't really planning on being so open here himself, but something about just talking to Kida is relaxing, and in a way it makes him want to not care so much about keeping his guards up.]

[That feeling is very dangerous, but Mikado doesn't mind it so much right now. Things are still in an acceptable range of interaction. What's most interesting is that look on Kida's face and the confidence in his posture--he can't recall Kida ever seeming so... In command.]

[He lifts his mug to his lips and frowns to find it empty.]

That would have been my orders anyway, Masaomi. At least, on the surface. The problem is that I lied a bit earlier--I've had them and you watched since you registered. If they were just nameless punks from a small organization this would be simple, but I don't think it does us much good to pretend we don't both know those were members of Fate. Ah, perhaps not particularly high up ones, but if you're involving Dollars in a war or simply a small incident... The circumstances change.

[He sighs and leans back, in contrast to Kida's pose, his own posture is good, a little stiff, self contained, not really impressive. Someone who could easily be overlooked in the background, but not really someone with a weak presence, just a lack of anything to command attention.]

Normally if it were serious enough I'd have opened dialogue with them by now and negotiated turning you over in exchange for the lives of those who violated Dollars rules, along with other compensation for crossing us. It would be rather tedious.

But you might say, for old times' sake, I'm not going to. That and I'm not particularly fond of that organization to begin with, so I don't feel like negotiating. But I would like to know if they're going to keep causing problems. You don't have to say why they're after you, but I'll take it as an insult if you won't help me keep at least that much order here. As it is I'll have to answer to the Leader for not disposing of you alongside them as trouble here, so I'd appreciate if you'd cooperate a little.

Edited 2013-11-22 10:29 (UTC)

...

[He goes quiet for a bit at that, staring upwards at the ceiling as he thinks. He's not this kind of negotiator. He's used to telling other gangs to screw off as much as possible, and leaving figuring out the times when he can't to other people.

But if they're thinking of turning him over, he has to play it safe. Mikado can say he's not going to do that, but if he really knew what was going on, he might. It's possible he could even torture that information out of the people who'd come after him, and that would be just as bad as telling it himself, if not worse.

He has to think. What does he do, when he's alone? He doesn't have loyalty and numbers to back him anymore.]

...No. I doubt they'll stop that easily.

[Honestly the smart move is to go to Fate and demand compensation for breaking the rules. At this point Mikado will have to contact them anyway, with subtle threats and posturing. He'll leave that to his best negotiator. The smartest move is to allow Kida to be used as a bargaining chip eventually, to gain some control from Fate if Kida's that important.]

[But Mikado's already decided not to hand Kida over, which limits his options a bit but doesn't change the fact that he has to confront Fate anyway. Not to do so would be a weakness inviting other vultures to Ikebukuro.]

[He grimaces, showing a face he shows no one; stress and a headache growing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking tired at the thought.]

Ahh... I don't know what you've done Masaomi, but this really is a problem. Well, it's better to know they won't quit at least.

[He doesn't ask why since Kida still isn't offering it. He'd rather not push the conversation into something ugly, and he has other ways of investigating if Kida won't tell him directly.]

I wish our reunion could be a little more joyous.

If it's that big a problem, I can disappear. It's not that hard.

[It is that hard, though. Izaya's not going to let him hide out with him now, not when he's been found once. It's too big a risk, and getting him his medicine is already a bigger favor than Kida expected to get. He can't ask for more than that.

Still, it's better than making an enemy of Mikado. The thought bothers him, deeply, even though it's been so long -- at this point, they ought to be strangers. It shouldn't matter if this is someone he knows. But he doesn't want to fight him...

He'll have to in the end though, won't he? If he wants to use Dollars to reclaim Lucky Hearts. What a messed-up turn of events. He starts to rub at his cheek as he thinks, then stops himself -- he can't afford to ruin the makeup that makes his skin look clear an unmarked. That would identify him as fast as an ID card.]

Edited 2013-11-22 11:07 (UTC)

[Mikado notes the start and stop. What was that about...? He shakes his head though, waving a hand to dismiss Kida's idea.]

Please don't.

[He wanted to say something else but it's that simple request that comes out instead. Anything that springs to mind to follow it up with just sounds like excuses, so he leaves the honesty as it is, uneasy with that much openness but unable to retract it. They really should be nothing but strangers but he still feels drawn to Kida's charisma as if over a decade hadn't happened between their last meeting and now.]

Then deal with Fate and his lackeys. If you want the problem to go away, I'll leave and they'll follow. That's all there is to it.

[He stands with a huff, moving as if to walk out. He remembers the way. It shouldn't be a problem if he just leaves now, right? There isn't any more information he can give right now.]

You haven't brought a problem Dollars can't deal with.

[Mikado stands as well, fascinated by the arrogance and confidence. So this is the real Kida? Interesting.]

At any rate, I'll see you out. But now that we've met again, we should have a drink some time.

[He says it amiably as he joins Kida at the door and walks out to the hall with him, escorting him out as promised. It'd be bad for Kida to be caught unattended and unauthorized in the halls, after all.]

[He heads on home after that, giving Mikado's offer only a vague "sure". This whole thing is going to make it harder to advance, he's sure of it. He wishes he hadn't been noticed, and that Mikado wasn't here. If they met again, it should have been something they could celebrate properly. This way is just... unfair.

Kind of unfair in the same way that getting out of the shower and hearing someone unexpected in his living room is unfair. Yet this is exactly what happens a mere week later. Kida's only got his pyjama pants on when he hears movement -- no shirt, and none of the makeup he usually puts on. What he does have is his pistol. So when he kicks open the door with gun in hand, anyone with decent knowledge of gangs would be able to tell who he is in an instant.

The gun is his gun, his baby, a white high-end revolver, white laquered handle with Lucky Hearts red and black stylized card suits logo and his nickname in bright red down the barrel. The tattoos are equally obvious. The flashy heart artwork on his left cheek and the more elaborate coins-and-cards-and-other-such-things piece that covers from the small of his back all the way up to cup his shoulders, visible from the front. The rest of his body is thinner than it should be and riddled with the scars that brought him success and the ones that marked his fall from it.

It was all done as a statement, at the time. Nearly a decade ago, when he was just seriously getting his name out there. He'd wanted people to know who he was. He'd wanted every corrupt piece of shit he told off to be keenly aware of exactly who was stepping over his beaten body to advance. Lucky was a brand as much as a person, and Kida'd spent his whole life under that name telling other people to go talk a long walk of a short pier, publicly and with great force. He'd made his personality into a weapon, his presence into a banner -- and now that flag is on display whether he likes it or not.

Whoever he's aiming his gun at had best be prepared to get shot, because Kida's coming out looking murderously frustrated and ready to go. He's just also incredibly damp, with a towel around his shoulders and only his pyjama pants on.]

[Things have been busy for Mikado for the last week. Sending his negotiator to Fate and his information gathering to other areas has left him with more headache than answers. Fate's vague about why they want Kida and even more insistent on bargaining for him than Mikado expected. If Kida were anyone else... But the way the group seems to so badly want Masaomi is intriguing, and makes Mikado determined not to hand him over. There's something valuable here, at least for Fate, and it might be a threat to Dollars but until Mikado knows more he doesn't intend to change his mind about betraying his word to Kida.]

[But he does want to visit him and talk. Maybe have an actual drink together. He hadn't planned on it being a serious visit, after all their last talk was serious enough, and some things are better done gradually. He'd intended to invite Kida out to a bar and start to re-establish a rapport with him, feel him out a bit. What he'd found at Kida's apartment, instead, had been a pair of hooded figures with weapons preparing to barge in, or perhaps preparing an ambush for Kida when he came out.]

[Either way, there were only two of them. Mikado wasn't a powerful fighter even now but he had surprise and experience on his side and he wasn't so weak as he used to be. A modified stun gun took both hoodlums out without a fuss. They hadn't expected an attack from his direction, which led Mikado to believe they were amateurs or stupid.]

[What remained to be seen was if they were Fate, random hoodlums, or hired criminals. Which meant duct taping the unconscious men's feet and hands and mouths and dragging them into the apartment (lock easily by-passed with some skill at breaking and entering). Some amount of commotion was inevitable and he was kneeling to check the pockets of one of the men (their weapons scooted far to the side out of any possible reach) when Kida burst into the living room, wet and half naked and waving a gun.]

[It was hard to say what was most noticeable first--the flashy, iconic weapon, the tattoos that declared Kida's identity like a waving flag, the fact that he was missing a shirt and was gaunt beneath his muscles... The look in Kida's eyes that said he was ready to kill. Of course the water still clinging to Kida's skin and plastering his hair down was a different kind of notable.]

Ah.

[The soft noise is like a gentle sigh, as everything clicks neatly into place. No other noise needed, not an exclamation of shock, but a murmur of comprehension. Things make much more sense, in this context.]

[Mikado had frozen at Kida's entrance, roll of duct tape pushed up his arm, his tie in his mouth to keep it from falling across the body of the unconscious man whose shirt coat pocket he was reaching into.]

[He breathes out after a split second, spits out his tie and slowly lifts his hand from the other man's pocket, revealing his hand to be empty, and sits back on his heels, not standing or making any other moves at all in the face of the gun being waved around.]

[Actually, he focuses on that gun again, brows drawing together in a troubled expression that looks less threatened and more like vague consternation.]

Edited 2013-11-22 12:23 (UTC)

[He's visibly surprised to see Mikado. The shock that crosses his face isn't suppressed at all. But it also doesn't make him lower his gun from where reflex made it stop -- pointed right between Mikado's eyes. Of course, the very last person he wanted to know who he was had to walk in at the worst possible moment. He strongly considers firing. He doubts even Mikado can dodge bullets at this kind of range. There's only about ten feet between them.

But the look on his old friend's face is obvious, too. Is he really not afraid right now? Is he really going to make the comment he is obviously about to make?

It's the realization of how ridiculous that is that makes him sigh and lower his weapon after a few slow, silent breaths.]

Don't even start with me. You want me to follow the rules, you don't ambush me in my apartment.

[It's not that Mikado doesn't think Kida might fire, he recognizes the readiness and the will to immediately. He even notes the way Kida considers it after the shock. He would do the same, in Kida's place. After all it's an unbelievable kind of situation Kida's in.]

[But the fact of the matter is that Mikado isn't afraid of death or pain any more. He lost those things a long time ago, to the point that he's reached an almost uncanny, supernatural calmness in any situation. He doesn't seek out his own destruction, far from it, he's learned to be fairly cautious; but it remains a fact that the only fear he has of death is unfinished business left behind.]

[He's glad Kida doesn't shoot him, but he doesn't show any particular fear or elation or relief when Kida lowers the gun, no reaction at all except to frown deeper as he gets to his feet.]

Guns are against the rules. [He says it anyway, a little stern.] Try not to be caught outside with it--though I suppose you wouldn't carry that one around anyway.

...Ah, that's right. Pardon the intrusion, but I wasn't sure if there'd be more in here. And I needed somewhere to put them; since they were outside waiting to be guests I thought you wouldn't mind me inviting them in. Sorry for not knocking.

You're not pardoned.

[It comes out as a snap, and he doesn't try to stop it. As far as he knows, this is effectively Game Over for him. There's no way Mikado won't tell his boss about this, and no way Dollars won't have the sense to protect itself by getting rid of him. Mikado's pleasantness right now is clearly just part of his front, or whatever craziness lets him look down the barrel of a gun without a flinch.]

And I do mind! You should've just taken them home with you, not-- barged in where you don't belong!

[Part of him wants to gun down everyone else in the room. Another part of him is tempted to turn the gun on himself and just be done with this whole thing. In the end though, he just sits heavily on the back of his ratty, sagging couch and lets the tension (and the fight) drain out of his body all at once.]

...Shit.